


Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Body Hair, Bondage, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Come Eating, Come Marking, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Feminization, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scenting, Sexual Roleplay, Stiles Stilinski as Little Red Riding Hood, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: After Erica makes a comment about Stiles being like Little Red Riding Hood and Derek like the Big Bad Wolf, Stiles can’t get it out of his head and orders a costume on impulse. Luckily for him, Derek is willing to indulge him in a little roleplay.





	Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poke360](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poke360/gifts).
  * Translation into Español available: [Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf (Traducción)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772899) by [lbp98l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbp98l/pseuds/lbp98l)



> As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have written.
> 
> Proofread as of March 7th, 2018.

When Stiles wakes up on Saturday morning, he is immediately out of bed and rushing downstairs to check the mail. The website said his order should arrive today, and he isn't disappointed. Sitting on the coffee table in the living room is a large parcel with Stiles' name printed on it, which his dad must have taken in before Stiles woke up. Even though what is within could probably be explained away as something innocent, just a Halloween costume he bought early because it was on sale or something, Stiles is grateful the sheriff didn't feel the need to open it himself.

It had all started a couple of weekends ago with a comment made by Erica. The pack was in the preserve for one of their training sessions, and Stiles was watching from the outskirts of the clearing while the werewolves did their thing. He was dressed in his signature bright-red hoodie because it was a little chilly, and in his hands he held a large plastic bag filled with bottles of cool water to keep the wolves hydrated. Derek had eventually called a five-minute break, and the betas dispersed after snatching some water for themselves. Erica was standing nearby with Boyd, and when Derek walked up to Stiles to get his own bottle, his tank top soaked with sweat, she had spoken.

"Better watch out, Little Red," she'd taunted, a sly smirk on her red-painted lips, "or the Big Bad Wolf might gobble you up."

Stiles had opened his mouth to offer one of his famous witty retorts, but nothing had come out. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open as a slideshow of images played through his mind on repeat, inspired by Erica's teasing words. When he had managed to snap himself out of it, he'd found that training had resumed and the bag in his hand was empty.

For days, the idea never left his head, and a week ago he'd finally given into it and blown a chunk of his savings on what he now carries up to his bedroom. He hasn't spoken to Derek about this yet, hasn't quite felt brave enough. But, as he takes a pair of scissors and cuts through the tape keeping the package sealed, Stiles is sure the alpha will be on board. Dropping the scissors on his desk, Stiles pulls open the flaps and picks up the item that is on top. The clear plastic packaging crinkles as he searches for the opening, and then a few seconds later Stiles has in his hands the main part of a Little Red Riding Hood costume.

The cape is obviously red and is made of a material the website had promised was silk satin. Stiles rubs it between his fingers and shivers all over with anticipation. He had ordered the largest size the website had, which he hopes will be enough to fit his broad shoulders. After double-checking that his bedroom door is closed, he puts on the cape to check.

With the strings tied across his collarbones and the hood up over his head, Stiles stands up and walks to inspect his reflection in the mirror that is on the back of his closet door. The cape fits, and he stares at himself and wonders how he is going to bring this up to Derek. Should they have a conversation first, or should Stiles just go right over to his loft one evening like Little Red Riding Hood went to her grandma's house?

Decisions, decisions.

Another moment's deliberation has Stiles settling on the second option. It just sounds much more fun. He smiles to himself as he imagines the look of surprise that will no doubt be on Derek's stupidly pretty face when he sees him.

That sorted, Stiles removes the cape and checks the other pieces of the costume to see whether everything else fits properly, too. Even though it was all made for a woman's curves, he is glad when, for the most part, every single article somehow seems to mould itself to his body. He looks forward to getting the full effect whenever it comes time to put his plan into action. Feeling tingly all over, Stiles puts the costume back in the box it came in before stuffing the whole thing in his closet for later. He can wait. He just hopes he doesn't have to wait too long.

* * *

Luckily, the opportunity for Stiles to follow through presents itself just a few days later, on the night the pack usually gets together every week just to hang out and keep their bonds with each other strong. Stiles doesn't know the details, but in the middle of the afternoon he had received a text informing him that that week's get-together had been cancelled, meaning that Derek, ever the Sourwolf, would be all by himself.

 _Well, not for long,_ Stiles thought with a grin.

Now, when the sun has just set, he gets the package containing his costume back out of his closet and places it on his bed. His breathing is shaky from excitement as he strips out of his clothes without care and stands in the middle of his bedroom in nothing at all. Arousal is already burning in his gut, the hairs all over his body standing on end. Stiles tries to keep a hold on it, but it's pointless and his dick is hard in no time at all, his balls drawn up between his legs. Ignoring it for now, he picks up the first part of the Red Riding Hood costume and pulls it over his head.

The black-and-white dress is slightly snug across his shoulders and loose over his chest, but otherwise it fits well. The bottom is puffy and lacy and stops halfway down his thighs. Eying it approvingly, Stiles moves on to the next piece of the costume and, with some trouble, wraps the black corset around his torso and begins lacing it up. He pulls it tight, secures it with a messy bow just below his chest, puts on the signature red cape and then sits on the edge of his bed to put a pair of knee-high black boots on his feet. It's a bit of struggle, but after a couple of minutes he manages it and gets shakily to his feet. He is glad that the heel is just a couple of inches high, meaning he has less chance of falling flat on his face and breaking his nose or something. Lastly, Stiles gets out the picnic basket he had found in the attic a few days ago, completing the look.

Checking himself out in the mirror, Stiles isn't ashamed to admit that he looks _good_.

He hopes Derek thinks so, too.

Before he can back out, Stiles leaves his bedroom and walks downstairs, knowing that his dad is currently working the night shift and won't catch him like this. He opens the front door a crack to peek outside and, once he is sure that none of his neighbours will see him, he exits the house and dashes to his Jeep.

* * *

Stiles parks on the edge of the preserve and composes a text to Derek, asking him to come to the bridge that crosses the stream inside, a location he thinks will be more appropriate for this particular sexual roleplay than the loft. He words the message carefully, keeping it vague enough that Derek will likely be curious and come. But, as Stiles has no desire for anyone but Derek to see him in his current getup, he also keeps it casual enough that the alpha won't think something is terribly wrong, panic and bring the betas with him on a rescue mission.

When he thinks he has it right, Stiles hits Send and gets out of his Jeep.

It's pretty dark in the preserve due to the late hour, but he can still see well enough that he doesn't have to worry about tripping over anything or getting lost. Just to be on the safe side, he uses his phone to light the way until he reaches the bridge, at which point he turns off the light. He puts the device on silent and stows it in his picnic basket, where it will be safe amongst the old blankets that are in there.

Then, he waits.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long for Derek to show, his arrival much more sudden than Stiles was anticipating. When the bearded man appears in Stiles' line of sight, he sees apprehension and anxiety clear on his handsome features, which lets him know that he didn't do as good a job of keeping his message light as he'd thought. He feels bad about inadvertently causing his mate to worry, but the emotions on Derek's face soon change into confusion when he jogs closer and gets a better look at what Stiles is wearing. His eyes are wide when Stiles turns to face him properly, and his lips are parted in shock. The teenager would think it was a very good look on him under other circumstances, but in this situation it isn't what he had in mind.

"Stiles…" Derek gapes, seemingly struggling to find the words. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Stiles takes a breath, his hands tightening on the handle of his picnic basket as he dives right into his role. "My, what big eyes you have," he says, tilting his head down slightly and looking up at Derek through his lashes, trying to look as coy as possible.

Derek's mouth drops open even further. "W-what?"

"You're supposed to say 'all the better to eat you with', Der," Stiles prompts.

A few more seconds pass and then realisation sweeps across Derek's face. His voice is a whisper. "Oh."

"You finally caught up?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Derek replies, gaze travelling up Stiles' outfit again, more purposefully this time. "What brought this on?"

Stiles wags a finger at the werewolf and smirks. "Nope, sexy-times first, talking after. Now, let's try this again, shall we?" He returns his hand to the handle of his picnic basket and flutters his eyelashes at Derek, playing his role perfectly like he had rehearsed an embarrassing number of times in his head. "My, what big eyes you have."

"All the better to see you with," Derek murmurs. He sounds a little unsure of himself, so Stiles shoots him an encouraging grin before uttering his next line.

"What big hands you have," he says, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck beneath the hood of the cape. He notes the way Derek's eyes immediately zero in on the expanse of pale skin and is satisfied when they flash red and his nostrils flare, the first hints of the hidden wolf that Stiles wants to coax out. It's clear that the alpha is beginning to get into the roleplay as well, and Stiles plans on getting his money's worth.

"All the better to grab you with," Derek growls, baring his fangs. His hands clench into fists, but before they close completely Stiles sees that Derek's claws are already out.

"What big teeth you have…"

Derek stalks forward with his next line, every bit the predator Stiles knew he could be. "All the better to eat you with."

Stiles takes a step backward and drops his picnic basket purposefully right in the middle of the bridge, where it will be safe and easy to retrieve whenever they have finished this game. He contorts his face into something fearful, even though every cell of his body is thrilled with excitement. Derek keeps moving toward him and Stiles keeps moving backward until, giving up all pretences of fear with a bright laugh, he spins and runs as fast as he can. "You'll have to catch me first!" he yells back over his shoulder.

His cape billowing out behind him, Stiles' feet pound on the dirt as he leaves the bridge and dashes through the trees. A few seconds pass, which Stiles presumes is to give him a decent head start, and then he hears a howl behind him, a sign that Derek is about to give chase. He tries to go even faster, not wanting the game to end too quickly. He holds his arms out at his sides as he reaches the top of a hill and slides down it, just managing to keep his balance and not fall on his ass.

A minute later, Stiles enters a clearing and skids to a halt to listen, his body held tense and ready to shoot off again in any direction. He can't hear anything but his own laboured breathing, no sign that Derek is anywhere around him, not until there comes a snapping of a twig from the side of the clearing at Stiles' back. He spins around and peers into the darkness between the tree trunks, knowing that Derek is somewhere in there, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Stiles doesn't give him the chance, just takes off again in the opposite direction of the sound. He knows what this must be doing to his mate, how this game of cat and mouse will tap into Derek's instincts to capture his prey and devour it. Devour _him_.

Stiles looks forward to it.

He runs until his legs begin to protest, switching directions every time he sees or hears a glimpse of Derek. After the third time, it dawns on him that he should have been caught already and that the roles aren't quite what he'd thought they were. In this game, he is the prey and Derek is the predator, that much was obvious from the start. But what Stiles had thought was him teasing his mate by continuously evading him is really Derek playing with his food, so to speak.

The thought distracts Stiles enough for him to stop paying such close attention to his surroundings, and the next thing he knows he is being tackled from behind. He expects to feel pain as he collides with the ground, but Derek twists them in such a way that Stiles lands on top of him and Derek takes the brunt of the impact instead. And, given that he is a werewolf, Derek barely seems to feel it, his arms constricting around Stiles and his chest vibrating with the constant low growl of pleasure at finally having what is his.

Stiles stares down at Derek's shifted face and feels himself growing hard beneath the material of his skirt. And, because they are pressed together, Derek feels it too, a feral grin stretching his lips.

"Gotcha," he rumbles, his voice gravelly.

He wouldn't want to break free anyway, but Stiles is powerless to do anything as Derek gets to his feet and manhandles him over his shoulder, an arm around the backs of his knees and his ass sticking right up in the air. The alpha carries Stiles through the woods at a brisk pace while Stiles imagines that he is being taken back to Derek's lair, an idea that makes his blood pump faster. He contents himself by staring at Derek's ass as it moves in the tight confines of his jeans, firm, muscular globes that Stiles has made it a point in the past to get well-acquainted with.

It helps to pass the time, and the next thing he knows he is being dumped onto a mattress somewhere old and musty-smelling. Stiles' vision blurs momentarily, and then he discerns the burned interior of the old Hale house and deduces that Derek has taken him where he used to sleep back when he first returned to Beacon Hills.

Speaking of Derek, the werewolf looms in the dim light a few feet away, already naked, his cock flaccid but still very impressive between his thighs. Derek was apparently waiting for Stiles' attention to be on him again, because as soon as Stiles' eyes find him he starts approaching the mattress, his cock swinging less and less with every step as blood fills it. By the time Derek is right above the human, he is fully hard and pre-come has already begun to drip from the slit. It would very quickly form a puddle, Stiles is sure, but Derek keeps moving before it can, lowering himself down to his hands and knees and crawling across the remaining distance to cover his prey with his body.

"Well, well, well…did someone get lost on her way to grandma's house?"

He plants his hands on either side of Stiles' head and looks down at him, letting the tension build until the teenager squirms impatiently beneath him. Stiles is about to speak, to beg Derek to hurry it up, but he doesn't manage to get the words out.

As soon as he opens his mouth, Derek moves too fast to see and then more of Stiles' skin meets with cold air as fabric is ripped from his body. He spares a second to think about how expensive the dress and corset was before Derek's face is pressing into his neck around the tie of his red cape and he completely loses the ability to think. The coarse hairs on the sides of Derek's face tickle as he takes in Stiles' scent with a series of audible inhales. Sharp fangs nip at the pale flesh, a very real threat that has Stiles keeping as still as possible so they don't accidentally nick him.

Eventually, Derek has his fill of that part but keeps his nose held against Stiles' skin as he travels lower. He grabs Stiles' arm and throws it up above his head so that he can nose into his armpit, breathing him in there. Stiles holds back a giggle at the tickling sensation and then jolts when Derek swipes his tongue across the fine hairs. The alpha does this for a few seconds before he has enough of that, too, and journeys even lower, heading where Stiles is aching and wants him most. His constant growling buzzes through Stiles' skin, making him quiver with need.

Much to Stiles' frustration, instead of stopping at his cock and taking him in his mouth, Derek bypasses it entirely, nuzzling at his balls and pushing his legs up and out of the way so that he can get to his hole. Stiles ends up bent in half, only his upper back and head still touching the mattress. He asked for this, to be controlled and made to take whatever Derek sees fit to give him, but if he doesn't get to come within the next minute he thinks he might scream.

His frustration only gets worse when Derek begins lapping at his entrance, tiny kitten-like licks that Stiles can barely feel. He groans and attempts to shove himself down onto Derek's face, but it's useless. Derek has such a strong grip on him that he can't move his hips at all. All he can do is groan again, hoping that the noise will be enough to spur Derek on.

Mercifully, it is.

Derek licks across Stiles' hole with more force, pressing harder at the tight ring with each pass, demanding to be let inside. Stiles relaxes himself as best he can to permit it and bites into his bottom lip when the slick muscle inches past his rim and starts licking at his inner walls.

He is happy to finally have some stimulation, but his cock still aches where it lies across his stomach. He untangles one of his hands from where he hadn't realised it had got caught in a torn piece of the mattress and reaches for himself, but a sharp noise of disapproval from Derek has him freezing halfway there. The rimming stops abruptly and Derek drops Stiles' legs to look up at him, his wolfed-out face angry.

"Aww, c'mon! No fair!" Stiles whines, understanding what his mate means.

"No touching what's mine," Derek hisses. He grabs his own T-shirt from the floor and tears a strip off from the bottom. With that in hand, he flips Stiles over onto his front without warning, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from the boy.

At first, Stiles is glad because he can now rut against the mattress, getting some blessed friction, but he quickly finds out that Derek will do anything to stop the possibility of him coming when he feels a sudden pressure at the small of his back. He can't figure out what it is at first, but by craning his neck around he sees that Derek is keeping him down with one of his knees, the bastard. Stiles curses him out loud, even though he is sure it won't achieve anything, and he is right.

Derek doesn't respond verbally, just flings the cape up and over Stiles' head, manoeuvres his wrists behind his back and ties the torn strip of T-shirt just shy of too tight around his wrists, effectively preventing him from pleasuring himself at all. That done, Derek grabs the cape again and returns it to drape down Stiles' back, covering his bound arms.

Stiles pouts and then squawks when one of Derek's hands wraps around his neck and pulls him up to his knees. He feels the weight shift on the mattress behind him and then Derek is coming around to stand in front of him, his cock right in Stiles' face. Stiles stares at it longingly before raising his eyes to meet Derek's and taking in his snarling face.

"Gonna shut you up," the alpha says darkly, fisting his hand in Stiles' hair and tugging him forward. "Gag you on me."

Although he still wants to come, Stiles' need is swiftly lessened when he is given something to do, something else to focus on. Derek forces his mouth open with his fingers and then—after sharing a look with him as if checking that this is alright and getting a nod of approval—he shoves his cock past Stiles' lips, not stopping until he is deep in his throat and Stiles' nose is buried in the dark, untamed hairs at the root of his sex. The scent embedded there is intoxicating. It's musky, masculine and slightly sweaty from their time spent chasing each other through the preserve, just the right side of unwashed to be indescribably hot. With the small part of his brain that is still functioning well enough to form thoughts, Stiles wonders if he has this effect on Derek.

The werewolf keeps him there just long enough for his eyes to begin watering, and then he withdraws so that Stiles can suck some new air into his lungs. "I'm gonna show you where your place is…" Derek says, the hand not still in Stiles' hair caressing the side of his jaw in a gesture that is both affectionate and possessive.

Stiles feels every bit of that possessiveness as he gasps against the head of Derek's cock. He blinks the tears from his eyes just in time for the process to happen all over again.

Derek adjusts his hands so that his palms are cupped around the sides of Stiles' head, holding him in place as he thrusts in all the way again. Only he doesn't stay there this time. Instead, he snaps his hips forward repeatedly, fucking Stiles' throat with enough force to make his weighty balls smack against the underside of Stiles' chin. With his hands tied behind his back and Derek keeping him immobile, all Stiles can do is take it.

Derek fucks Stiles' mouth for a long time, spit dribbling out of the corners of the teenager's mouth and down his bare chest. Stiles' jaw aches from being held open for so long, but he doesn't try to get Derek to stop. He continues to kneel there and allows the werewolf to use him until his cheeks are wet from the tears streaming unbidden from his eyes and Derek's thrusts become jerky, a sure sign that he is close to losing it.

Stiles is jealous.

"Almost! There!" Derek grunts between thrusts, eyes locked to Stiles' face.

The human expects Derek to come down his throat, but he is proven wrong when, just before his orgasm hits, Derek pulls out completely and finishes himself off with his right hand. The thick fingers of his left tangle once more in Stiles' hair to keep him where he is, and Stiles has just enough wherewithal to shut his eyes before Derek is yelling and he is painted with an unfathomable amount of hot, sticky seed. It splatters all over his face, starting with his forehead, some of it even getting up in his hair, before less powerful spurts hit his nose and eyes and drip down to his lips and chin.

By the time it's over, Stiles feels covered in the stuff, an obvious act of claiming that he doesn't have a single problem with. He is cautious as he opens his eyes, ready to snap them closed again if it seems like any of Derek's come will get inside them, but he is safe. He looks up Derek and waits patiently for the man to come down from his orgasm, which doesn't take long.

His breathing still heavier than usual, Derek releases his softening cock and grins down at his mate, who must make quite the sight. He swipes a clawed finger through the come on Stiles' cheek and holds it in front of his lips for him to lick off, which he obediently does. Stiles is careful not to cut his tongue on Derek's sharp claw, and then the bitter taste of the alpha's jizz bursts across his taste buds and he moans. It's an addictive thing. He swallows it after a few moments spent savouring it and then Derek's finger is back with more, the alpha cleaning off random parts of Stiles' face and making him eat every drop he presents to him.

He doesn't do that with all of it, though. When what Stiles estimates to be half of Derek's load is sitting in his stomach, Derek switches tactics and just starts smearing the viscous fluid into his skin instead, even going so far as to transfer some of it down to Stiles' chest and rub it around his sensitive nipples. Stiles thrusts his chest out and his eyes flutter when Derek starts rolling the pebbled nubs between his thumbs and index fingers. The painful pleasure shoots right down to his cock and he is reminded of his own need to come.

"Please…" he gasps, looking imploringly up at Derek.

"Be patient, pet," the alpha tells him, giving Stiles' nipples one last brutal twist that has him whimpering.

Without care, Derek pushes Stiles so that he falls on his back, his arms trapped beneath him. He kicks apart his legs to make space for himself and then kneels between them, almost returning to the position in which they'd started things. When Derek gathers up all the come that hasn't dried yet and uses it to slick the de-clawed fingers of one of his hands, Stiles knows what is going to happen next.

He gasps when those fingers disappear from sight and he feels them prodding at his entrance. Derek pushes two in straight away, a sudden intrusion that has Stiles crying out and throwing his head back. Even then, Derek doesn't stop. He thrusts the thick digits in and out a couple of times before roughly scissoring them apart, hurriedly stretching Stiles to take him.

"Your pussy's so tight," the alpha says almost conversationally. "Think I caught myself a little virgin. This Big Bad Wolf's the first one to get inside you, isn't he?"

Even though in truth this is far from their first time, Stiles gets sucked into the fantasy Derek is creating and nods.

Derek smirks and adds a third finger. "I thought so. Just you wait…I'm gonna split you apart on my cock, make you into my little bitch to fuck whenever I want. I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, not that they'll ever have you. You're mine now. Maybe I'll even keep you chained up so you can't go anywhere without my say so, so you're always here, ready for me."

Every word Derek rasps goes straight to Stiles' untouched dick, making him leak over his own stomach. He buys into it all, the depravity and sheer wrongness of it making him hornier than he ever remembers being. He pushes back onto Derek's fingers, trying to suck them in deeper, but Derek was apparently anticipating this because the fingers leave him entirely and he just feels disappointingly empty.

Stiles nearly sobs with his need.

"Shh, bitch…" Derek soothes, laying himself over Stiles and licking a broad stripe up the side of his face, tasting his tears. "Gonna fuck you now."

True to his word, Derek's cock, which Stiles hadn't even realised was hard again, is pressing at his loosened hole. It's dry but he still wants it, doesn't care, and he wraps his legs around Derek's body and pulls him in to get this across. He gets a dark chuckle in response and then all nine thick inches of Derek are inside of him, the scratch of his pubes against the bottom of Stiles' ass cheeks and his still-heavy balls resting against the top.

Stiles screams and really does sob this time, part of him so grateful because he is finally getting what he has wanted since he started this scene. The other part is taken by surprise at how painful it is. They've never gone dry like this before. It feels like their first time together, when Derek took his virginity, which makes it all the easier to play his character of the virginal Red Riding Hood.

The pain is slow to pass, but Derek doesn't give Stiles time to get used to it. Also perfectly playing his role of the uncaring and predatory Big Bad Wolf, Derek starts moving straight away. He thrusts slowly for a couple of seconds before gradually building up the pace until he is grunting with exertion and his balls slap against Stiles every time he buries himself to the hilt.

Sweat soon drips off of him and onto Stiles, but the human isn't aware. He is too lost in the sensations Derek is making him feel.

That amazing, massive cock filling him to the brim over and over again.

The heat of him above, keeping him warm.

The musky scent of him.

He feels Derek inside of and all around him, overtaking him completely until it's like there's nothing of himself left, like all he is is Derek's possession, Derek's toy. It's far hotter than it should be, but as it's just the two of them and he trusts Derek with everything he is, Stiles has no problem with it.

"Good pet," Derek grits out between thrusts. "So tight. Mine. _All mine_!"

Stiles' only response is another broken sob.

"This pussy's mine…and you like it being mine, too. Just look at your little clit, bitch. _Look at it_!" Derek orders, grabbing Stiles' hair and forcing his head up to look between their bodies, where he is still hard, has been throughout all of this madness, will continue to be until Derek finally allows him to come. He wishes he had his hands free so he could get himself off, but luckily he doesn't need to. Not when he hears what Derek has to say next.

"Should I play with it?" the werewolf asks rhetorically, dropping Stiles' head again. "Think you've been good enough for me? Y'know, I actually think you have. After all, you did wander into my den and offer yourself up so sweetly for me to eat, didn't you, pet? I think that deserves a reward."

Keeping one hand on the mattress next to Stiles' head, Derek wraps the other around Stiles' cock. He strokes a couple of times up the full length of it before focusing his ministrations on the tip, rubbing his thumb in maddening circles over the glans.

"It's very pretty," Derek says, his gaze on Stiles' face to watch his every reaction, the furrow of his brow and the bitten-bloody state of his lips. "I'm surprised no one's ever wanted to touch you here before, but then again, maybe they have and you were a good girl and saved yourself for me. You already knew you belonged to me, was that it? I bet it was. That's why you came here tonight, so I could lay claim to what was mine."

"Yes! God, yes, _please_!" Stiles gasps through his tears.

"You wanna come?"

Stiles hiccups out a, "Y-yes!" and whines when Derek instantly stops touching him.

"You can," the alpha promises, "but you'll do it on my cock like the good little cockslut you are. Think you can do that for me?"

Stiles honestly isn't sure. He has never come untouched before, hasn't even considered trying, but with how pent up and turned on he is, with how fucking amazing Derek feels inside of him, he believes he might just be able to manage it.

He gives his assent and concentrates on the overwhelming pleasure spreading from his ass to the rest of his body. His shoulders and arms ache from so long spent trapped beneath his back, but it's barely a blip on the radar at this point, largely thanks to Derek's expert knowledge of how to play him like an instrument. Every one of the werewolf's fast thrusts is unerringly precise, all of them stimulating Stiles' prostate. When that is combined with Derek bending down over him and nibbling and biting at his neck, a spot that never fails to get both of them going, it doesn't take Stiles long.

His vision whites out when his orgasm hits. He shoots between them, covering both of their torsos with come. His mouth is open wide in a soundless scream as it just seems to go on and on and on, until finally it ends and he is left boneless beneath Derek. He is glad breathing is an automatic thing, otherwise he would probably suffocate.

Derek pushes himself up, grabs Stiles' knees and looks at the mess between them with a pleased smile. "Good girl," he coos. "Now it's my turn."

With Stiles taken care of, Derek thrusts into him with abandon, no longer caring whether he hits the teenager's prostate or not. As a result, whenever Derek _does_ hit it, Stiles' whole body jerks because he can never predict it. He is strung out and overstimulated, but all he has the energy to do is make quiet little whining sounds every time it happens. He looks blearily up at Derek as the man keeps fucking him, marvelling at the fierce beauty of him.

Derek is still wolfed out in his beta form, his fangs bared and his hairless brow drawn together so that it looks even heavier. His eyes are shadowed by it, but the brightness of his red irises still shines prominently, looking right down into Stiles'. Every inch of him is slick with sweat, his muscular, hairy chest glistening with it.

He brutally fucks Stiles for an unknowable amount of time, until finally his movements become uncontrolled and he sinks all the way into Stiles' ass one last time. He holds himself there and howls at the ceiling as he fills his mate with come, his chest heaving as the sound echoes throughout the barren house. All Stiles can feel is Derek twitching inside of him, but like always he imagines that he can actually feel himself being pumped full.

When Derek's orgasm ends, his beta form recedes and he pulls out of Stiles' sore hole, which is so stretched and used that come leaks out right away, dribbling onto the mattress as he legs fall flat. All traces of the Big Bad Wolf apparently having vanished with his beta form, Derek is gentle as he helps Stiles sit up and cuts through the torn strip of fabric keeping his hands bound. When he is free, Stiles rubs at his wrists, rolls his shoulders to ease the ache and then just wants to sleep.

"Is your dad expecting you?" Derek asks him softly, letting him lie down again.

"Nuh-uh," Stiles answers. "Knew I wouldn't wanna move after, so I got Scott to cover for me…"

"Smart."

Stiles smiles tiredly. "That's me."

After returning the smile, Derek is gone from sight and then comes back with a couple of old blankets, which he throws over Stiles and uses to tuck him in. "Get some rest," he instructs, brushing Stiles' hair back from his forehead. "I'm just gonna get your picnic basket and then I'll be back."

Already half asleep, Stiles mumbles, "Sure."

He drifts in and out for a while, never really going under entirely until the mattress dips beside him and he is held in a pair of strong arms. Now that he is no longer missing Derek pressed up against his back, Stiles snuggles deeper into his mate's welcome warmth and is out like a light.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was a fun little adventure, wasn't it? It seems I'm simply incapable of writing a PWP that is short and sweet, so here you have another 6,000 words of pure filth... Somehow I don't think any of you will be complaining about that, will you? XD I hope you all enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have several other ideas for this PWP series—and that's not counting any prompts you guys may want to give me, hint-hint—so definitely stay tuned for more. ;)
> 
> A big thank you to [Poke360](archiveofourown.org/users/Poke360/pseuds/Poke360) for this prompt. As I said above, if anyone else has any other suggestions for PWPs they would like to see from me in the future, feel free to leave them in a comment down below and, as long as they don't feature something I don't like, I'll try to make them happen. _All_ suggestions are welcome, as long as they're Sterek M/M. I'm really in the mood to write smut right now, so get it while the getting's good! ;)
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. I've got some good stuff planned. And feel free to check out my past fics if you haven't already. They're good, too.**


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